


O is for Opportunity

by FakePlastikTrees



Series: Holiday ABC's 2012 [14]
Category: The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>O is for opportunity</p>
            </blockquote>





	O is for Opportunity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UbiquitousMixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/gifts).



> I struggled with this for a while because I've never attempted writing anything based on literature, especially a book I love as much as I do The Bell Jar and it was intimidating to even think about touching Sylvia Plath because I worship her. But this came to me late at night and I thought I'd give it a shot.

I like to think that as humans, our lives are composed of fragments . Like broken jagged pieces of glass that make up a mirror. Like we’re composed in the womb and we’re shattered as soon as we drop out into the cold hands of a doctor. From then on it’s only a few years before we compose ourselves. Except, I’m afraid I’ve misplaced myself somewhere along the way. I’ve been careless, I think, with my life. Or maybe some of my pieces were lost in some heavenly place where I was put together clumsily and the pieces I was meant to collect along the way were scattered and lost. Sometimes, when I look at the ocean I feel complete and this is why I believe that’s where they were dropped. Those shards and slivers of shiny glass. They’re sitting somewhere out there at the bottom of the sea and I hear them calling out to me.

Somewhere out there, across the blue sea I’m complete. Maybe the sea will swallow me whole someday and I’ll know that I was right all along. That deep within the heavy salty wet blanket lies the real me, the complete me, the unintentionally happy Esther that doesn’t have to make everything out of nothing. The compliant, happy to be someone’s wife and nothing else, happy to not know the thrill of a casual affair Esther. Like the other girls. But looking on for too long at that ocean, I also feel that maybe I’m meant to be a little incomplete and a little missing of my shards because it is big, that sea. I could waste an eternity swimming through and through, searching. But if I just turn around and see that town just over the beach, there’s an entire different kind of sea. Of people and places to know and to possibly loathe, hopefully love. And while my carelessness and lack of general interest often reigns, it seems a lot less exhausting than swimming for an eternity. It feels like opportunity. And on the verge of sounding optimistic, like something better, hope maybe.


End file.
